Someone To Fall Back On
by PythonFan
Summary: Another songfic, this time using Jason Robert Brown's song of the same name. A few moments in the JoshDonna relationship from Josh's POV.


_Author's Note/Disclaimer: I was bit by the writing bug again today, this time using one of my favorite songs of all time. Spoilers abound for the whole series, but for War Crimes (3.05) and Opposition Research (6.11) in particular. Enjoy._

_Josh and Donna belong to Sorkin, Wells, Warner Brothers, NBC, et al. "Someone to Fall Back On" was written and performed by Jason Robert Brown and appears on Mr. Brown's album entitled "Wearing Someone Else's Clothes." I write for fun, and as such, do not profit._

"If you were pissed before, I can't imagine what you're feeling toward me right now."

Josh glanced over, startled at the sudden conversation. Since Cliff had disappeared with the diary five minutes ago, not a word had crossed her lips. He'd assumed this was going to be a quiet hour. "What?"

"Understandably, you didn't like me seeing a lawyer on Oversight. Slightly less understandably, you expressly forbid it. Now I've lied to said lawyer, not to mention the Congress of the United States, and caused god only knows what kinds of trouble for you and the President. So—"

"Donna."

"So please don't hate me." She had yet to meet his eyes, staring straight ahead as if in a daze. After a few seconds of silence, she bowed her head, her flaxen locks falling forward to create a thick curtain around her face.

It took him a moment to recover, to find the right words, to walk the fine line between his place as boss and friend and whatever else he was, or wanted to be, to her.

He could ask her what was so damn important in that diary that it was worth committing a felony. He could say that she was right, that he hated the fact that she was seeing Cliff, and it had nothing to do with his transfer. He could tell her that she could marry Calley, bear his children, and become chairwoman of the Republican National Committee, and he still couldn't hate her.

But, yeah, that might be crossing that line thing.

"Okay…first of all, I don't hate you. I'm feeling many things right now—fear, confusion, and anxiety among them—but hatred isn't one of them. Except, perhaps, for your exceptionally bad choice of dates." She moved slightly next to him, and he suspected that she might be smiling behind the sheath of hair that blocked his view of her face.

"And let me remind you, Donnatella," he continued mildly, "that once again, I proved correct on that note." His suspicions were confirmed when she lifted her head and shook her hair back, leaving her face clear of everything but a wry grin.

"'Stay away from lawyers,' I told you, and yet—"

"Josh—"

"And yet—"

"Josh, you never told me to stay away from lawyers."

"Yes, I did. I said it right after—"

"Josh, you're a lawyer."

He answered, too quickly, without thinking. "No, I'm not." Damn. Damndamndamn. Now it was his turn to fall silent.

When no words passed between them for almost a minute, he thought Donna would follow suit. So he was utterly unprepared when she leaned ever-so-slightly into him and murmured, "Thank you."

_I'll never be__  
__A knight in armor__  
__With a sword in hand,__  
__Or a kamikaze fighter;__  
__Don't count on me__  
__To storm the barricades __  
__And take a stand,__  
__Or hold my ground;__  
__You'll never see__  
__Any scars or wounds -__  
__I don't walk on coals,__  
__I won't walk on water:__  
__I am no prince,__  
__I am no saint,__  
__I am not anyone's wildest dream,__  
__But I can stand behind__  
__And be someone to fall back on. _

"You ought to deliver some of those truisms yourself." She didn't turn to look at him as she sauntered away, but her clipped tone was unmistakable. Josh was left feeling cold all over, and it had little to do with the brisk January morning in New Hampshire.

_Really, Donna? Russell?_ If she was going to throw his own lessons back in his face, she could at least do it on behalf of a better candidate than Bingo Bob.

He puzzled over her. She was…different, somehow, and he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't that she was calm and collected, she was always those things. Nor was it happiness. She didn't appear to reap any joy or passion from what she did, except perhaps in smacking him down as she'd done moments earlier. It finally dawned on him as he sipped the last of his coffee. She wasn't his.

Setting aside the fact that Donna would never speak to him again if she ever knew he thought of her as "his," Josh pondered on the revelation for a moment. For almost the first time since he'd known her, she wasn't his employee or even his friend. On the contrary, she was the opposition. She wasn't his professional equal, perhaps—not yet, anyway—but she was someone else's employee. When he thought about who that _someone else _was, a nasty Bob Russell-Will Bailey amalgam arose before his eyes, and he fought to suppress pangs of irritation and what he had long ago stopped denying to be jealousy.

As much as Bingo Bob grated on him, it was the thought of Will Bailey taking his place in her life that really made his blood boil. Would they banter? He'd never gotten to know Will particularly well, but he didn't strike Josh as a banterer. Would he tease her about the guys she dated, and would she tie his bowtie before a big fundraiser? If those thoughts weren't enough to strangle his stomach with envy, the next did the trick.

_She wouldn't…date Will Bailey…would she?_

The thought, on the surface, seemed absurd. But was it? They were of an age, whereas he had at least a decade on both of them. And, as he knew better than most, the constant day-in, day-out contact that came on the campaign trail and in the halls of the West Wing could give rise to something fairly powerful. _No big deal_, he thought bitterly, _add Will Bailey to the never-ending parade_. Thoughts of Donna in various domestic situations with Dr. Freeride, Cliff Calley, Jack Reece, or Colin Ayres had inconveniently haunted him for years now, what was one more?

Yet there was something about Will that threatened him more than the others. He had hired her, not as his assistant, and appointed her to a significant post in the campaign. Within five minutes, he had given her the break that, in eight years, Josh had never offered.

Having to admit that Will Bailey had treated her better with that one act than he had in all the years he'd known her was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. The utter horror of the situation beginning to sink in, Josh was vaguely aware of the Styrofoam coffee cup crumpling beneath the pressure of his fist. For years, they'd laughed and bantered, involved themselves in each others' personal lives, and gained a level of intimacy than many married couples couldn't match. But somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten that she was a young woman with career aspirations and ambitions of her own.

Until only a few days ago, she was simply Donna, his assistant and best friend, the woman who made him glow with pride when she said something particularly brilliant or made his heart pound when she wore a particularly slinky gown. He couldn't quite put his finger on the last bits, but in the back of his mind, he always thought he'd have time to figure it out.

But she'd moved on. He'd come as close to baring his heart as he likely ever would when he'd told her she belonged with him, and she had barely blinked. And maybe she didn't. Belong with him, that is. She stood there minutes earlier, on her own two feet, top-tier staffer for the presumptive Democratic nominee.

Will had lavished her with the promotion she'd always deserved. He was brilliant, young, successful, and utterly appreciative of what Donna had become. At the moment, Josh felt none of those things. A mild wave of nausea swept over him as he thought about Will and Donna, alone together, in the long weeks ahead.

"Josh?"

"Hm."

"Josh?" It took him a moment to register Ronna standing beside him, eying him warily.

"Yeah, sorry…what?"

"He's done."

"What?"

Ronna's brow furrowed. "The Congressman. Is done speaking."

"Oh. Oh, right, yeah."

She frowned at the mangled coffee cup still clenched in his grip. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Thinking about the luncheon tomorrow." He slid past her suspicious gaze and made his way toward his candidate.

_Some comedy -  
You're bruised and beaten down  
And I'm the one  
Who's looking for a favor.  
Still, honestly,  
You don't believe me  
But the things I have  
Are the things you need.  
You look at me  
Like I don't make sense,  
Like a waste of time,  
Like it serves no purpose -  
I am no prince,  
I am no saint,  
And if that's what you believe you need,  
You're wrong - you don't need much,  
You need someone to fall back on..._

"Stop squirming." Abbey Bartlet frowned, fussing at his collar.

"Sorry, ma'am."

"I haven't been first lady for two years now, Josh. Even when I was, I didn't like being called 'ma'am.' I thought we went over this when Jed left office."

"Sorry, Abbey."

"That's better." She prodded and smoothed a bit more, then stopped to admire her handiwork and nodded in approval. "All finished."

Josh paced over to the mirror and inspected his reflection. "You know, they invented snap-ons for a reason," he groused as he touched the knot delicately.

"This is your wedding, Josh. Us women have to deal with stilettos and makeup on a daily basis. In fact, there are several women—one particularly important to you, I understand—enduring those very discomforts just down the hall in order to celebrate your special day. If you have to suffer through the service in a particularly unyielding tie, so be it."

His response consisted of a scowl and some barely-audibly mutterings concerning a career in the Navy.

Abbey continued to flutter about him, swatting at his hands as he tried to adjust the tie. "I _am_ sorry, for your sake and my own, that Donna couldn't be here to do this herself. However, some traditions are a must."

Before Josh could respond, a knock sounded. "Come in." Abbey called.

The door cracked open, and Sam poked his head in. "Any room for a best man in here?"

"Of course…just finishing up." The former first lady smoothed Josh's lapels, straightened his boutonnière, and smiled reassuringly at him as she made her way toward the door. "Good luck, Josh. I'm going to pop in and see Donna before we start. Any messages?"

"Tell her your bow-tying skills are as poor as her handwriting."

"I did it eight years for the leader of the free world with no complaints, young man. Mess with it at your own peril." she warned jovially, as she closed the door behind her.

Sighing, Josh turned to his friend, best man, and deputy, trying not to look as petrified as he felt. "What's up?"

"I was told to tell you five minutes. It's kind of a madhouse in there. I think two presidents' worth of Secret Service agents are making the out of town guests nervous." Sam smiled sympathetically. "How you doing?"

"Oh, you know, terrified. And the tie's not helping in my quest to keep from keeling over."

Sam grinned. "We've all been there. Believe me, if you don't swoon now, you will when you see Donna walking down the aisle. She's absolutely breathtaking."

"You've…seen her?" The thought of Donna walking toward him in a wedding dress made his mouth go dry.

"Of course. I'm not the groom." Sam grinned. "Relax. You're going to be fine. This is a day that's over a decade in the making."

"Yeah…not helping with the nervousness." Josh grimaced, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"All I'm saying is that you guys have been as good as married for ten years. Today you're just making it official."

"Believe me, if you were here back in early '06, you might think differently."

"I didn't need to be here. You guys are…you guys, whether you work in the same office or not. It may have taken you being separated to realize what was there, but everyone else saw it years ago."

"Everyone meaning…?"

"Meaning everyone." Sam answered matter-of-factly.

"What…did you, did you…sit around and _talk_ about us?"

"Guilty as charged. There was also a pool. Ready?"

"But…no…how?"

Sam rolled his eyes as if talking to a particularly slow child. "Josh. If it was Toby that was shot at Rosslyn, can you imagine Ginger sleeping over and running the household for a month? And if Margaret had been injured on the CoDel, could you see Leo going on a hysterical tirade and jumping the first plane to Germany?"

"But that was…how did you…?"

"Never mind how I know." Sam cut him off, not unkindly. "Listen, disregard everything else. In a million years, would Leo or Toby care about—much less try to sabotage—one of Margaret or Ginger's dates?"

Josh opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't. Sam grinned smugly at his slack-jawed friend. "Like I said, you were never 'just' boss and assistant. You've loved and cherished each other in sickness and in health for the past decade. Now kiss the girl, sign the papers, and make it legal." He grimaced noticeably. "Preferably sooner rather than later, as C.J. threatened my head and, you know, other regions, if I came back without you."

"Hormones?"

"Mostly I think she's tired of getting up to pee." Sam strode a few paces to open the door. "Ready?"

Feeling petrified, nauseated, and more right than at any other time in his life, Josh swallowed hard and straightened to his full height. "Yeah."

_And I'll be that:  
I'll take your side.  
If I'm the only one,  
I'm used to that.  
I've been alone,  
I'd rather be  
The half of us,  
The least of you,  
The best of me.  
And I will be  
Your prince,  
I'll be your saint,  
I will go crashing through fences  
In your name. I will, I swear -  
I'll be someone to fall back on!  
I'll be the one who waits,  
And for as long as you'll let me,  
I will be the one you need.  
I'll be someone to fall back on:  
Your prince,  
Your saint,  
The one you believe you need  
I'll be - I'll be  
Someone to fall back on._


End file.
